


Finding Home

by ToriCeratops



Series: The Little Things [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hadn’t planned this either!  I just couldn’t not ask you anymore.”  He reaches for one of the inside zipper pockets of his jacket, fingers still fumbling like Stiles has never seen before.  When his hand re-emerges, he’s holding a tiny, dark blue box.</p>
<p>Stiles isn’t entirely sure he’s not dreaming, or dead.  Apparently he says that out loud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

“Stiles!  What if everything goes all wrong?  What if I lose it, or I say something stupid or, oh God, what if she says no?”  The horrified look on Scott’s face is the only thing that keeps Stiles from smacking his best friend upside his head.

“Are you kidding me right now?  Seriously?  After all the shit you two have been through?  You lying about being a werewolf,” Stiles starts to count out each transgression on his long fingers, “her aunt trying to kill you, her mother almost killing you, her dad trying to kill you, ALLISON trying to kill your entire pack, her grandfather coming closer to killing you than any of them ever did--not to mention how close he was to killing me--Kanima attacks, creepy stalker psychos, wendigos, prom, honest-to-God blood-sucking vampires, her trying to kill you again...”

“That wasn’t her fault.”

Stiles ignores him, “Zombies, graduation, telepaths, ghouls... Oh, and let us not forget the fact that you’ve somehow managed to maintain a healthy, long-distance relationship this entire previous year while she finished her degree IN FUCKING FRANCE.”  He’s long since run out of fingers at this point. 

“Yeah but...”

“Oh, no.  Oh, no no no no no no... no buts.  If she turns you down after all of that, she’s a bigger idiot than you are.”  Scott just shakes his head.  Stiles can tell he’s as nervous as hell.  “Also, you saying something stupid is just kind of a given at this point.  You should just accept it and move on with your life.”

They fall silent at that, and Scott is well aware of the good natured intention of Stiles’ comment.  Stiles sips at his coke, watching the clouds pass by and make the sunlight come and go.  The rays are dancing in the gaps of the trees, and it makes him a little sad that they won’t be able to do this for much longer.  Their perch on the front porch has become his favorite spot to sit and just be, like they used to.

“He knows you’re planning on leaving, you know.”  Stiles doesn’t want to bring this up, but he has to.  The knot in his chest just won’t go away.

Scott almost chokes on his beer.  “I haven’t said anything to anyone.  I haven’t even talked to Allison about it.  Was waiting for after tonight.”  Stiles just shrugs with a sad grin.

“No, come on, how can he know?  You didn’t even know.”  Scott’s face is an odd mixture of confusion and anger.  Stiles has grown accustomed to it.

“I knew before you did, Scott.”  He doesn’t look at him now, just continues to watch the sunlight in the trees.  “I knew you couldn’t stay here, especially if you were planning on staying with Allison.  I mean, she has no ties here except you.  What on earth would make her want to stay? There are plenty of bad memories too.”  He trails off for a moment, trying not to stare at the spot on his shirt that hides a massive scar one of her arrows had left on his chest. 

 “Besides, she’s well-travelled now, studying in France and all, spending time in Italy and Germany over the summer.  She won’t stay here.”  Stiles states it as a simple fact.

“You did that too, though.  You left, spent time travelling.  Why don’t you want to leave?”  

Stiles thinks about that for longer than he would care to admit.  He had left right after graduation, as fast as he possibly could.  ‘Run away’ was probably the most accurate term for it.  Scholarships, impressive scholarships, meant that the money that had originally been saved for school was free for other endeavors. Dad had given him two semesters worth of funds, and  had let him take the summer and first semester to just, go.  He hiked, biked, and generally bummed around Europe.  He had met new people - people he hadn’t spent his entire life around, made new friends, met some not so friendly people, and met some that had asked him to be more than friends.  One thing he had in common with Allison: he’d always been able to turn down advances with a smile and a smirk, “My boyfriend would rip you to shreds” being his favorite line.

It was one of the most wonderful things he’d ever done, it was exhilarating, life-changing, eye-opening.

He had come home three weeks early.

Stiles had then forced Derek to stay in bed with him for almost two days.  Not that Derek had really put up much of a protest.  

It’s something he never really talked about, even with Derek, after he had returned.

When he finally answers, it is with a genuine smile once again.  “This place will always be my home.  Nothing else could ever replace it, and I’m not ever leaving Derek behind again.”  It’s one of the most honest things Stiles has ever said aloud.  

Scott lets out a quick laugh.  “I still don’t know.  This place is my home too, and it feels weird thinking about leaving.  But at the same time....”     
When he trails off, Stiles finishes for him, “it feels right, too.”

“Yeah, it does.  I still haven’t figured out why.”

“It’s because you are going to be an alpha.”  Derek’s voice is calm when he appears in the front doorway.  Neither are startled by his presence - Scott having his werewolf hearing and Stiles long ago coming to the understanding that Derek could literally be anywhere at anytime and he wouldn’t know it. 

“But I’m part of your pack.  I can’t be an alpha.” 

“It won’t be for some time, I'm sure, but you are going to make your own pack.  Just part of who you are.” says Derek, stepping closer to Scott, and then slapping his back. He leaves his hand on Scott’s shoulder.

That startles Stiles.  Derek is not a touchy-feely guy.  He slides off his perch on the rail as carefully as he can so he doesn’t fall off the side.

Scott is more focused on what Derek actually saying though, “What?  No.  I’m not biting anyone just to have a pack!”

Stiles can’t believe how thick Scott is. “No, you and Allison, genius.”  He doesn’t miss the condescending frown of Derek’s.  There is a hint of amusement, but it’s overshadowed by his disappointment.  

“But Allison...” This time, Stiles gives his best friend a quick smack to the back of his head.

“Babies, Scott!”

The confused look that’s part of Scott’s usual features doesn’t budge at first.  

“Oh.”  Realization kicks in. “Oh!”  It’s followed by an amused smirk. “OH!”  And finished off with a look of complete terror. “Ooooh....”

 

 

~*~  
 **Two Days Later  
**

After the last time Allison had gone on a rampage (Ok, even if it WAS supernaturally-induced hallucinations), Derek was certain no one would have anything to do with her ever again.  It had surprised him when, after less than a year, most of the pack that wasn’t Scott was at least speaking to her again.  Two years later, when even Erica was actually civil with her on a regular basis, he was blown away.

Derek watches them now: Allison, Erica, Lydia, and Stiles of all people, sitting around the kitchen table covered in wedding magazines.  All of them are smiling and laughing, making the room feel warm and like it should.  

Like home.

Everyone is in the kitchen, Scott and Boyd cutting peppers and onions by the stove, Jackson bent over a pot stirring something thick and boiling, Issac scrubbing away at dishes in the sink, while Derek leans quietly against the counter, listening to the various conversations from around the room.  Scott and Boyd are arguing over the dinner preparations - Boyd is going to win seeing as its his pregnant wife he’s cooking for. Jackson is grilling Issac on what his new internship at the counseling center is going to be like, and from the table Derek hears nothing but ridiculous amounts of giggling.  

This isn’t the first wedding to be planned in this room, and he hopes it won’t be the last.  It always brings out the best in his pack.

“Oh my god, Allison.  What the hell?  You can’t be serious with that. You will look like a friggin’ hobo.”  Stiles’ voice can be heard clearly above the buzz of the noisy kitchen.  He’s got his arms outstretched, palms up, shaking his head at her.  Derek doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

Erica actually comes to her defense, “It’s not that bad, Stiles!  It’s just kind of, I dunno, maybe you could call it hobo chic?”  She gives Allison her best shrug.

Allison just rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say that this was the dress I was gunning for, I just said I kind of liked it!”

“Good!”  In a flash, Stiles grabs the magazine and tears out the offending page, crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder.  It lands next to the other dozen wads of paper he vetoed.

“You know, you did this with Erica too, Stiles.  I can’t wait till you actually get married. We are going to have a field day.”  Lydia smirks, reaching over to poke Stiles in the chest.  

Derek starts to laugh until he sees how Stiles reacts - his smile fades and his shoulders drop just a tiny bit.  Some of the sparkle is lost in his eyes.  No one but Derek seems to notice as he bites his lip.  Seconds pass and the smile is back, yet still somehow absent from his eyes. 

“Nah.  I’m not getting married.” He reaches for another page to rip away.  “So I don’t have anything to worry about.  Now, stop liking hideous dresses.”  In an obvious act of defiance, he slowly crumples the page back and forth in his hands, throwing it lightly at Allison’s face.  The girls are too busy laughing to really focus any further on what he says.  Derek is certain he did it on purpose: Stiles is the master of deflection when it comes to talking about himself.

The realization that they have never, in their seven-and-a-half-year relationship, discussed getting married hits Derek in the stomach hard.  The smile fades from his own face while he watches Stiles, who is no longer as actively engaged or as thrilled about the conversations around the kitchen table.  It’s a subtle change, but the message is loud and clear to Derek.

He’d always assumed in the early days that, as much as he would hate it, Stiles would change as he got older and would leave him for something better.  Anything had to be better than the life Derek had given him.   When Erica and Boyd had tied the knot, Stiles had put down anyone who mentioned that he and Derek ought to be getting married soon, with complete honesty in every word.  Though, now that he thought about it, his denials were usually coupled with, ‘I can’t think past the end of this semester, how am I supposed to be thinking about forever?’

Derek thought about all the times he had expected Stiles to be finished with them, with him.  After every argument, every fight.  After the time he spent overseas, from which Derek had honestly not expected him to return.  He had hoped he would, but tried to prepare for the worst. After every stupid thing Derek said to him, which was a lot.

Yet, here he was, day after day, never asking anything extra from Derek no matter what Stiles wanted for himself.  

A small grin returns to Derek’s face as he slips out the side door unnoticed, reaching for his phone.  It rings twice and the other line is silent for only a moment.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

Derek takes a deep breath, suddenly more sure of this than he has been of anything in his entire life.  “Hey,”  is all he can think to say at first.

“Derek?  Is everything okay?”  They talk often enough that he doesn’t sound overly concerned.  

Derek is nodding when he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, actually.  Everything is really, really good.”

“That’s great!  So what’s up?”  He sounds pleased to hear from him, and for that Derek is grateful.

“Well, I have a question to ask.  Mind if I swing by tomorrow?”

 

~*~

** Three Weeks Later   
**

Stiles is trying desperately to catch his breath when he slumps to the ground, laying flat, eyes shut tight.  A soft thud beside him makes him turn to see Derek has done the same.  Their heads are next to one another, bodies pointed in opposite directions.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this!”  Stiles reaches up to wipe some of the sweat from Derek’s now completely human forehead, only managing to smear dirt everywhere.  

“You have got to quit saving my life, Stiles.”  Derek shakes his head frowning.

“Not good for your fragile ego, I take it?”  His breath is coming more easily now, heartbeat evening out for the first time in over an hour.

Derek only nods, unable to keep the forced scowl from morphing into smile and a short burst of laughter.  They lay in the silence of the empty warehouse for several minutes, quietly trying to gather enough energy to make the trek back to the real world.  Stiles is pointedly ignoring the stench that is making itself present once again, the slime smeared all over his torn-to-shreds t-shirt, and the way his ankle is starting to scream at him.

Twist the damn thing one time and it haunts you for the rest of your life, apparently.

He slowly becomes aware of the fact that Derek’s breath is not slowing, and he doesn’t need super-werewolf senses to tell his heartbeat isn’t slowing down either.  Stiles gets concerned when he sees the man actually fidgeting.

“I swear this place is worse than Sunnydale.”  He does his best to hide the concern in his attempt to get Derek to laugh again.

“Just because you never noticed it before, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been there.”  Stiles is hit with the thought that Derek isn’t talking about creatures of the night.  It’s probably the way he’s looking at him, making Stiles suddenly feel overexposed.  He’s watching Derek closely, the way his lips move, obviously saying something new, but what he hears couldn’t be coming from the man, so he makes him repeat it. 

“Come again?”

Stiles feels as if his heart stops when Derek says those three words once more.

“Marry me, Stiles.”

Yup.  Yup, that was exactly what he said the first time.  His heart goes from zero to 120 in no time flat when he lets out his own answer.  He’s out of breath once again.

“Of course.”  It’s the only thing Stiles can think to say.  Honestly, it’s the only thing he could say.  There was never a question, and Derek hadn’t actually asked.  He had simply stated a fact.  He wanted Stiles to marry him, and Stiles was just agreeing.  

Of course he would agree.  He sits up, trying to gather every thought rushing through his overworked brain and easily ignoring the slime he slides through on his way.  

Derek shifts to sit up next to him, a worried look on his filthy face.  “Are you going to say anything else?”

And then Stiles can’t stop himself.  His heart is pounding in his chest, ears ringing with the strength of it.  “Anything else?  Anything else?  What else is there to say?  Of course.  Of course, of course, of course.  A million times, yes.  I can nod, I can say it in other languages. Spanish - Sí.  French - Oui.  German - Ja. Oh, oh, I know Chinese, will Chinese help? Hao. Or how about sign language if you’re feeling a little hard of hearing at the moment.”  Stiles makes a fist and shakes it up and down a few times vigorously, still continuing. “I mean, I am sure I could come up with other ways of saying yes if you really need me to.  Why here of all places, though?  Why now?  This place reeks, Derek.  Come on, is this really the best place you could think of for a freaking marriage proposal?”

Derek give him one of his rare smiles, wide and beautiful while Stiles rambles.  He lets him continue for a while, arms flailing about his head and everything, in a perfect example of one of the many things he loves about him.

When Stiles pauses to take a breath, Derek answers one of the questions.  “I couldn’t exactly take you out to a nice dinner, you would have known something was up.  I couldn’t do a big production like Scott because, well, that’s just not...”

“That’s not us.”

“Exactly.”

“This though.  This is totally us.”  Stiles is blinking furiously, trying to hold back his tears. 

He’s not going to cry, dammit.

“I hadn’t planned this either!  I just couldn’t not ask you anymore.”  He reaches for one of the inside zipper pockets of his jacket, fingers still fumbling like Stiles has never seen before.  When his hand re-emerges, he’s holding a tiny, dark blue box.

Stiles isn’t entirely sure he’s not dreaming, or dead.  Apparently he says that out loud.

“You aren’t dreaming Stiles.  Here.”  Derek opens the box on hinges that protest with a loud squeak.  “Your dad helped me out on this.”  The black metal band inside the box shines in the soft bit of moonlight that makes it through the broken windows.  Three small, round diamonds are the only pieces of detail on the otherwise slick surface.  

“The diamonds in it were the ones from your mother’s engagement ring.”  He shrugs as if that is the most casual thing in the entire world.  Stiles’ shakes more than just a little.  “His idea.”

And now, Stiles is crying: biting his bottom lip, chest shaking, heart pounding, tightening in the pit of his stomach, crying.  Tears flow freely down his cheeks and he couldn’t possibly care less.  

“I don’t know how you feel about wearing this as an engagement ring, or waiting for...”  

Stiles doesn’t let him finish. He throws his arms around Derek, locking their lips together in a tight, quick kiss.  Quick only because as much as Stiles wants to wrap himself in Derek and never go anywhere else, he wants that ring on his finger. 

The tight feeling in his chest almost hurts when Derek pulls the ring out of its box and slides it onto Stiles’ shaking hand.  World spinning, heart pounding, he’s reminded of the dizzying effects of the panic attacks during his youth.  But then Derek is there, and Derek is holding him.  He’s warm and he’s comfort and he is everything.  

It doesn’t matter that they’re covered in dirt and grime and dead creature slime and broken bits of wood chips.  It wouldn’t matter if they were on the porch, in the kitchen, in the car, or that they’re sitting on the abandoned floor of a warehouse that was once a den to something that just tried to kill them.  Lips locked, arms wrapped tight around each other, safe in each other’s embrace, Derek and Stiles are home.   



End file.
